


Two AM Thoughts

by Silver-Moonlight (LunaKat)



Category: Original Work
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Other, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaKat/pseuds/Silver-Moonlight
Summary: A series of poems I wrote late last night. All unedited.





	1. religion

We carved idols from stardust and blood

And we gave our God a thorny crown

But wait until time erodes our faith

As these monuments, too, come crumbling down

 

_—religion_


	2. late-night inspiration

Somehow, someway

The night inspires me

I’m not sure if my passions are always there

Or if they hide shyly

In daylight

And refuse to poke out their head

So I struggle and struggle against a tap that’s stuck

That won’t yield beneath my grip

I resign myself to stagnation

And unproductivity

Till come nightfall

Past midnight, suddenly

The words flow smooth and swift

From the dark, still waters of my mind

Incessant clicking the keyboard makes

Fingers darting, thoughts flitting

Daylight is for editing, for looking at it with fresh eyes

But two AM is for writing

Where my poetry thrives

 

_—late-night inspiration_


	3. oyster

Peel back the minutiae

The metaphors and poetries

Fancy words don’t mean a thing

Unless there’s a pearl underneath

 

_—Oyster_


	4. there's a phantom in the hallway

There’s a phantom in the hallway and it knows my name

It’s the ghost of something I had lost

Something I didn’t even know I needed

It flutters through the air, this apparition with silver cloth

It looms behind my back while I sleep soundly in my bed

When I wake the first thing that I see is its face

Hovering over me, never touching me, but reaching out as though to

Stroke my hair or neck with trembling fingers

Whatever it is, whatever it once was, it won’t leave me be

For some reason it wants to remind me of something I don’t even know

Sometimes when I peer at its face, I think I see mine staring back

From a time when I was different, when I was young and naïve

There’s a phantom in the hallway and it knows my name

It’s the ghost of something I lost long ago

Something I cannot reclaim or rescind

Because the decision to leave it all behind was made without my knowing

Now I can only look ahead, my chin turned firmly up the track

There's no time to bother with phantoms, no time to be looking back

 

— _there’s a phantom in the hallway_


	5. dreaming

I dreamed a little dream

And it cleaved my heart in two

For when I woke the next morning

My first thought was you

 

_—dreaming_


	6. sometimes it’s not good but it’s all just feelings anyway and when have those ever been beautiful?

I’m not even sure if this is

Worth

Writing or reading or the

Click-clack sound

Of my keyboard beneath

My fluttering fingers

But my

Soul twitches and demands to be wrung out

So here is what came forth

 

— _sometimes it’s not good but it’s all just feelings anyway and when have those ever been beautiful?_


	7. emotions suck but they make us human

Emotions ruin us.

They are our Achilles heel

But without them we would be ruined

So what are we supposed to feel?

 

— _emotions suck but they make us human_


	8. they say we live on in memories after we’re gone but what happens when the memories are gone?

Time marches on eternally and does not let us rest in peace

Our memories travel until they fade

And then we cease to exist

Empty gravestones with no offerings

For dead that go unremembered

 

— _they say we live on in memories after we’re gone but what happens when the memories are gone?_


	9. What if?

So what if the world is merely a reflection

In the eyes of another person?

What if everything we see now

Is but the universe’s silver mirror,

And our eyes are not our own but simply

A conductor, a prism, through which reality feeds through

And someone else is looking through us

To glimpse our lives

To glimpse our thoughts

And perhaps to them, we are these strange,

Alien beings who they are not sure how to understand

So they must delve into us, wear our skins as their own

And breathe our breath and feel our hearts pumping

Against the great eternity of the universe

What if the only way they can understand entropy and finality

Is through the last sputtering pulse of our veins

As our lives peter out?

What if God is just a curious observer

And even He doesn’t understand?

Well, that’s probably not the case

Because let’s face it

My life isn’t interesting enough

 

— _What if?_


End file.
